The Dalish and the Antivan
by From Thessia To Rannoch
Summary: Honestly, I have no idea where this story is going, but I do know that it is a romance about a female Dalish elf Inquisitor and the lovely Ambassador Montiliyet. Hope you enjoy.


**Chapter I**

Adrasio Lavellan stood several feet away from the balcony. Her boots were still impressing the rich carpetry of her bedroom, though she stood listening to the cold whistling of the nighttime air as it groped the rugged stone of Skyhold. She truly hated this place, not Skyhold, but this bedroom. She could never stop thinking about how the wind might just knock the entire stony process down one day. Why should any structure stand so high? Why didn't Solas know of some other abandoned fortress that stood on more modest elevation? The entire setting seemed disastrous. Of course, no one else seemed to notice; when Ambassador Montiliyet visited Adrasio's chambers months ago, she was drawn to the grand heights of the balcony like a child to a new toy. Without hesitation, the Antivan's feet carried her out, her hands laid across the cold stone railing, and her mouth slipped open to accomodate a wonderstruck smile. For a moment, Adrasio forgot that she was afraid of heights, and for several more moments, she pretended not to be as she conversed with Josephine, wrapped in whirling mountain air.

There she stood on the night they all arrived back from the Winter Palace, too petrified to venture out onto that same balcony. It was unfortunate, too, because she always felt a close kinship to the twilight. She liked to be out in the night, swaddled in shadow, roaming when the world was finally quiet. It was why they called her Owl, 'they' being her clan; she would always volunteer for the nighttime patrols. She had become something of a trader of favors because of this name; everyone who didn't want to have to stay up through the night offered her small recompense if she would take their watch. She usually did, too, even though the favors were miniscule things.

Her mind was wobbling out of control, and though her eyes were becoming dry and tired, she resented the prospect of sleep. The last several days had been long and trying. The disasters at the Winter Palace were visceral and painful, but her mind was the true victim of torture. The shameless and ignoble lying, petty plots smattered amongst monstrous conspiracies... But it was the conclusion of the chaos that stuck with Adrasio now. All those servants slaughtered in the kitchens, right below the feet of all the dancing and prowling nobles, and the only death any of them took note of was that of the Duchess. While blood stained the stones of the palace's foundations, they danced and feasted and toasted to the Inquisition's heroism, to Adrasio's heroism, and what did she do? She thanked them, uttered an ingenuine but heavily masked call to comraderie, and immediately withdrew to the balcony.

Adrasio's arm went stiff. She stalked out of her room, slamming the door shut behind her, and hurried down the steps with an urgency she could not explain. She only knew that she had to find a place to be alone and comfortable and free to hate everything, and that she could not do that up there.

Varric Tethras was sitting in a stone chair in Skyhold's main hall when the heavy oak door that led to the Inquisitor's chambers jerked open a little too roughly. It wasn't a slam so much as a shove, and when Adrasio emerged, he could see that she was still modestly embarrassed. There was also a fieriness about her posture, visible even from Varric's distance, that prohibited her from caring too much. She marched down the hall, ignoring Varric, and left the castle. There were a million things the Inquisitor had to be stressed about, but Varric had never seen her so edgy. It, however, did not feel right for him to be the one to console her. He also knew from what he had pried out of Lead Scout Harding that the Inquisitor and the ambassador had developed something of a secret relationship, so he hopped off his seat and walked cautiously to the ambassador's office.

Personality-wise, Varric could captivate the occupants of an entire mead hall. Even physically, he was a rather attention-demanding sort. But when Josephine's pen is whipping across pages of a journal, even Varric's entry and approach can go unheard. "My Lady Ambassador," he greeted nonchalantly. Josephine's pen sprung from her cramped fingers, trailing ink all along its path over the edge of the desk and onto the floor. "Andraste's t—!" she exclaimed sharply. Varric raised one eyebrow at her. She had gone from looking alarmed to horrified. Varric's mouth curled into a smile on one side, making a dimple in his chin form, and he gave a hearty chuckle while he bent over to retrieve Josephine's quill for her. "Now whose influence could have imposed 'Andraste's tits' on your vocabulary, Ambassador Montiliyet?" He added a special ring to her title, taunting her almost realized indecency.

"I— I don't know what you are talking about," she grumbled in her flustered way. She did, however, give the rogue a thank-you in the form of a nod when he set her pen back down on the desk and wiped the stray ink off with his leather glove. His laughter filled the room seconds ago, but the return of a serious, straight-lipped expression to his face dissipated all merriment. Josephine ceased to be embarrassed, picking up on this distinct shift in mood. "Can I help you, Ser Tethras?"

Varric suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Ambassador," he said. He did a quick look over both of his shoulders to be sure he wouldn't be spilling the secret. "I know about you and the Inquisitor, and so—"

Josephine interrupted him immediately, desperately gesturing the matter away. "I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to, Varric, could you perhaps elaborate—"

"Look, look, Josephine— Can I call you Josephine? Only I know. Well, me and the person who told me, but— look, you're secret's safe with us. That's not what this visit is about." Josephine opened her mouth to protest again, so Varric pressed on. "The Inquisitor hasn't seemed in a good way since we left the Winter Palace, and I thought maybe you might benefit her with a conversation." There was silence. Varric and Josephine just stared at each other, saying nothing. "Well, on account of you two being so close. Or whatever."

Josephine's eyebrows dipped thoughtfully. Gently, she wiped the tip of her quill off on a cloth beside her journal, closed the book, and deposited it in the drawer of her desk. "Do you know where she is?" she asked without looking up. Varric told her what he knew. Josephine nodded, shutting the drawer, and rose from her seat. "Thank you, Varric." She bade him goodbye with a nod, making her way to the door he had come from. She stopped with her hand on the knob and turned back for a moment. "Of course you may call me Josephine," she said, and left.

Josephine found Adrasio in one of the empty rooms near the courtyard. She had asked several of the guards milling about if they saw the Inquisitor, and one by one they directed her to the courtyard until finally Morrigan's son approached the ambassador. "Lady Ambassador Montiliyet," he said with a well-executed bow. The boy was impressively well-mannered, despite his young age, and had a rather grave quality about him. Josephine wondered how much of this was Morrigan's influence and how much of it could be chalked up to circumstance. "I heard you asking that guard about the Inquisitor. I saw her go in there." His small hand reached out to a door, and Josephine thanked him and went to it.

Adrasio was sitting in the corner of a dark room, the only corner not blocked off by fragments of wood and stone debris that the builders still hadn't gotten to. When she heard a knock, she jumped up to her feet and dreaded who might be interrupting her solitude. There was a pause, and then the door opened with a groan. Silvery-green moonlight filtered in through the ajar door. "Josephine?" The ambassador's eyes took a moment to adjust, but she eventually made out the familiar shape of Adrasio's silhouette and, eventually, a smoulder of red hair fighting through the poor lighting. "Yes, it's me," Josephine said. She glanced outside a moment to see who had observed her entry. The guard she had asked was gone now, and so was Morrigan's son, though she had the strange feeling he must still be around. Regardless, Josephine closed the door and made her way over to Adrasio. It was almost impossible to see now, but she reached out and felt the other woman's shoulders. Her hands dropped to the crook of her elbows, and Josephine pulled the Inquisitor in, hugging her and stroking the space between her shoulder blades. "Darling," she whispered.

Adrasio felt utterly defeated. "It's good to see you, ma vhenan, but I'm afraid I'm... in a peculiar state." She poured as much apology as she had the energy for into her words, hoping Josephine would understand that she was not in the mood for the midnight rendezvous they had become accustomed to. Having to ask it away made the Dalish woman feel awful.

The Montiliyet pulled away but held onto Adrasio's hands. She searched the darkness for the other woman's eyes and found copper irises flickering off what little light there was. "I didn't come here for anything... romantic," she promised. "I wanted to see how you were doing— if you are okay." Josephine was frustrated with her current blindness; she wanted to be able to see the expressions on Adrasio's face, to gauge exactly how she was feeling. Adrasio was, in truth, feeling fragile, and it came to her suddenly. She heard the worry in Josephine's voice, entangled with nervousness and honest unadulterated compassion, and that made Adrasio's eyes spike with tears. She was grateful for the darkness, but even that couldn't hide the almost imperceptible crack in her voice when she said, "I'm fine," and then quickly after, with a much more unsteady voice, "No, I— I'm not fine." And then she was crying, inaudibly at first, but Josephine could feel Adrasio's forearms go stiff right before her body quivered, and in a heartbeat the ambassador had her arms wound tightly around the elf again. Adrasio's mouth tucked into Josephine's shoulder, and she struggled to swallow down the sobs. She felt the woman's hand weave its way to the back of her head, felt Josephine's cheek press against the back of her jaw as she promised, "Oh, darling, it's okay" and "You've got me, love."

Adrasio remembered the last time she felt comfortable enough with someone to let herself cry around them, a long, long time ago, and she didn't want to think about it. She rode out her hysteria in Josephine's shoulder for an arduous period. Eventually, her tumulting faded into dull exhaustion, and she found herself being led to the floor by Josephine. They sat next to each other with their backs leaning against the cool stone walls, their knees bending up in front of them. It was quiet, and dark, and Adrasio could only hear rustling as Josephine wiped her own eyes with one hand. The other covered Adrasio's like a canopy, and the Dalish women felt utterly indebted. The first thing said since Josephine's gentle consolations was Adrasio's apology.

"Please, not an apology," Josephine replied not unkindly. "I just want you out of this state. I want you to feel better." Adrasio's eyes felt oily and overburdened. She was too tired to be embarrassed. She clasped her hand over the one Josephine used to hold onto the her, and then Adrasio slowly, carefully, leaned through the darkness. She found Josephine's cheek with her hand first, brushing it gently, and then placed a kiss there. Josephine not only felt it but heard the soft click of Adrasio's lips. She gently tugged Josephine into her, and the Antivan woman rested her head on Adrasio's shoulder. They stayed like that for minutes, Josephine feeling the subdued rise and fall of the Inquisitor's breathing, the Inquisitor stroking the back of Josephine's hand, both of them acting in the subconscious while their minds roamed all the things that had gone down recently. It certainly felt like a lot to bear; there was no reason for anyone to do it alone.

"It's getting late."

"Mm."

Silence, then: "Thank you, ma vhenan."

**A/N: That concludes chapter one. This was written late at night without any proofreading, so there are probably several errors. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, and if you liked it, please leave me a comment. It motivates me to keep going :)**


End file.
